O! Grim reaper
I know of your essence
Instrument of fate
But your bones should be weary and leaden
Your scythe should have slacked it's thirst for gore
For numberless souls have you shuffed their mortal coil
Yet, you hunger after more
Though you're blameless, a true-hearted servant
You're blind to gold and silver
You're heartless; deaf to piteous cry
Alas! Your end is nigh
Ultimately, you shall be cast into a fiery mere
And humanity shall live forever more
Our flesh shall not wrinkle, neither shall our hair grizzled
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